The Shark Rider (10 page)

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Authors: Ellen Prager

BOOK: The Shark Rider
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Tristan looked over at the red team. They were also getting their second clue.

From overhead, they heard Coach's voice. “Nice work, red and blue teams. Time to dig in, so to speak!”

Hugh read from the screen, “Like buried treasure, this one will take some real hands-on attention. Fifty paces south from the dock, next to the tree for number three.”

They swam back to shore to where the dock began.

“How big is a pace?” Hugh asked. “I mean, look at Sam's feet; they're small compared to yours, Ryder.”

“Even better question, which direction is south?” Tristan asked, looking around.

Hugh stared at the iPad screen. There was a compass rose in one corner. As he turned the iPad, the compass spun. He stood next to the dock, facing the lagoon, and lined up the image on the screen with what he saw. Pointing to his right he said, “That way.”

Ryder pushed Hugh aside. He put one foot in front of the other, pacing off in the direction Hugh had pointed. “One. Two. Three . . .”

“Look, the Squids are going the other way,” Sam said. The other team was also pacing off, but headed in the opposite direction. “Go faster.”

Ryder stopped to look at the other team. He then turned back. “Uh, guys, where was I?”

“You were on twenty-four,” Hugh said calmly.

“Twenty-five. Twenty-six . . .”

At fifty paces, they came to a pair of palm trees. One stretched out over the water.

“Guess we should start digging,” Sam said.

“Where exactly?” Rosina asked.

“Beside the trees,” Tristan answered.

They dropped to their knees and started frantically digging anywhere and everywhere next to the two trees. Tristan turned to see where the other team was. The Squids had also started digging. Sand was flying everywhere.

“Hey, watch it,” Rosina snapped, brushing sand from her hair.

“Sorry 'bout that,” Tristan said, shrugging good-naturedly and thinking,
Now she knows how it feels.
At least the sand wasn't gooey like her slime.

“I've got something,” Sam shouted.

The others converged on where she was digging. The tip of a blue ribbon stuck out of her hole. They helped scoop the sand away, uncovering a rolled-up piece of paper like an ancient scroll. Sam swiftly untied the blue ribbon around the scroll. On it were just two words—LOOK UP.

The teens' heads snapped skyward.

“There! Out by the coconuts, hanging over the water!” Tristan yelled.

Hidden between the fronds of the palm tree that stretched out over the lagoon was a hanging blue bag.

“How are we going to get
that
?” Rosina questioned.

Ryder walked over to the palm tree and jumped up. He wrapped his arms and legs around the trunk and started to shimmy his way up. About five feet up, he started to slip. At first it was just an inch or two. Then he slid all the way to the ground, landing hard on his butt.

“Not as easy as it looks!” Coach Fred shouted to them.

Ryder glared at him. “No problem. I've got a better idea, anyways.” He ran for the water.

“Wait,” Sam shouted. “I know what to do.”

But Ryder was already swimming away from them.

“Look, what if we build a human pyramid,” Sam suggested. “I'm pretty light. I could be at the top. I did it once in gym class.”

“That might work, but we'll need Ryder to do it,” Tristan said.

Tristan shouted to him. The teen was swimming fast toward where the tree hung out over the water. Ryder leapt up and reached for the hanging blue bag. But he wasn't high enough and fell empty handed into the water. And the landing wasn't pretty. Ryder did a stomach-searing belly flop like when he first discovered his talent for jumping.

The others shouted to Ryder to come back to the beach so they could try Sam's teen tower idea. But he waved them off, swimming around for another try.

“Way to go, Squids!” Coach shouted. “Excellent skill use, Winters.”

Tristan looked over. “Oh, no.”

One of the girls on the other team was climbing another palm tree that hung out over the water. She was scrambling up monkey-like, amazingly fast.

“How's she doing that?” Sam asked.

They were quiet, contemplating the girl's spidey skills.

“I know,” Hugh said. “She must have sticky hands and feet. Heard about that last year. Like a sea star's tube feet. They have sticky-suction cup tips.”

“Cool,” Tristan said. “I mean, as a skill and all.”

“Ryder, come back,” Sam shouted louder.

But Ryder either didn't hear or was ignoring her. He tried again to jump for the bag, but again came up short. He finally gave up and headed for the beach, where the others were still shouting and waving at him.

“The water is, like, too shallow to get good height,” he complained.

“Didn't you hear us?” Rosina snarled. “They've just about got their puzzle pieces.”

“What?” Ryder scowled. His frown deepened when he saw the Squid girl out on the tree. She had just grabbed the bag with their puzzle pieces.

Sam explained her idea again. The teens sprinted for the water. It was only a few feet deep directly below the bag. Tristan, Ryder, and Rosina stood facing one another with their arms outstretched and braced. Hugh helped Sam climb onto their shoulders. She stood up and reached for the bag.

“I'm too low,” Sam yelled down.

“Good
try
there, Snappers,” Coach shouted.

“We'll have to lift her up with our hands,” Tristan said.

The others looked at him like he needed a straight-jacket. He sort of thought the same thing. But they had to try something.

“We can do this. I'll take this foot. Ryder, you take
the other one. And Rosina and Hugh, you guys help keep us steady.”

“Stand on our hands!” Tristan yelled up to Sam.

Sam looked down at them. “Okay, but hurry. I don't think I can stay up here much longer.” Her legs were starting to shake, and their teen tower had begun to lean.

They put their hands under Sam's feet.

“One. Two. Three!” Tristan shouted. They raised Sam up over their heads. She reached for the bag, but still she was just a little too low. As their teen tower began to topple, Sam sprang up in a last-ditch effort. The others tumbled into the water, and Sam stretched, reaching up as far as she could. Then, she too fell hard into the water. Sam came up spitting out seawater and coughing. That was it, Tristan thought. They just lost the challenge. Then Sam raised one hand. She had the blue bag! Tristan and the other Snappers whooped and hollered, racing back to the beach. Sam quickly untied the bag and dumped the puzzle pieces onto the sand.

“You've got some time to make up,” Coach Fred shouted to them. “The Squids are already working on their puzzle!”

The others backed off and let Hugh look at the pieces. They had already decided he'd be the best at it. He stared at the interlocking wooden pieces. Each had lettering on it.

“The Squids just about have it,” Coach yelled.

“You've got this, Hugh,” Tristan said.

“Yeah, no problem,” Sam encouraged.

Hugh seemed to figure something out and began putting the pieces together.

“Sea Camp Rules!” shouted the Squids.

“Excellent job, red team,” Coach said. “Well done. It was extremely close—up until the tree, that is.”

Hugh finished the puzzle and shrugged. The other Snappers looked at Ryder, shaking their heads.

“Hey, I almost had it. We would have won.”

“Okay, everyone over here,” Coach Fred said. “Shake hands. Good job, campers! Nice use of your skills. After dinner, Squids meet me at the park entrance for our trip to Rita's. Better luck next time, Snappers.”

Disappointment showed on their faces. Ryder left the beach quickly, saying something about how he needed a shower. The other Snappers followed more slowly. After a celebratory swim, the Squids ran by. As she passed, Brianna hit Tristan on the arm. “Good move with Snaggle-Tooth. Almost had us.”

Hugh grinned at Tristan, while Rosina and Sam gave him looks like they wanted to shove a spear through his chest.

“What?” Tristan said, beaming.

8

A FISHY SITUATION

N
O ONE KNEW WHETHER IT WAS THE ICE CREAM
, something else they ate, or a quick-acting, fast-spreading bug. But the morning after the Squids went for their tasty reward, they all felt horribly ill. They were now holed up in their bungalow, barely able to get out of bed, and regularly revisiting what they had consumed over the past day or so. It was not going to be a pretty or sweet-smelling day for the Squids.

“Kinda glad we didn't win that challenge after all,” Hugh said to Tristan and Sam at breakfast.

“No joke,” Tristan replied.

“Yeah, I saw Coach Fred on the way in. He didn't look so good either,” Sam told them.

Just then, Director Davis strode into the Conch Café followed by Doc Jordan and Ms. Sanchez. They looked concerned and in a rush.

“Campers, listen up,” Director Davis announced. “There's been a mass stranding of dolphins in the southern Bahamas. Doc Jordan and Ms. Sanchez will be leading a team there to help. Campers in the Dolphin and Shark bungalows may go. Pack your bags and meet outside the Poseidon Theater in thirty minutes.”

A large group sprinted for the door while others shouted that they wanted to go too.

“I'm sorry; only the senior campers may go. The rest of you will remain here to continue your training.”

“What's going to happen to the dolphins?”

“How come they got stuck on the beach?”

“Wish we knew,” Doc Jordan answered. “Sometimes dolphins or whales beach themselves like this when they are sick or injured, and they are very social animals. If one member of the pod goes aground, then the others may follow it. Or sometimes there's been activity nearby that uses sound on a frequency that injures the dolphins or disrupts their navigation system.”

“Will . . . will they
die
?” Sam asked, choking up.

“Hopefully not. We are going to try our very best to save as many as possible. There's already a response team on site from the Marine Mammal Stranding Network. We'll be working with them.”

“Okay, back to breakfast, everyone,” Director Davis ordered. “There'll be a change in your schedules while Ms. Sanchez and the Doc are gone. Squids have the day off for obvious reasons. Seasquirts, to the lagoon for the morning, and Snappers, meet in the chemistry lab.”

The camp leaders quickly jogged out the door.

After breakfast, Tristan, Sam, and Hugh went through the side entrance of the Rehab Center on their way to the chemistry lab.

“Hang on a sec,” Hugh said. “I want to check on Old Jack and tell him what I did with my fingers yesterday.”

They searched for the octopus in his retiree condo complex in the aquarium room. There was no sign of the six-armed cephalopod. Tristan checked the old guy's favorite pickle jar. Hugh looked under a pile of rocks and in a cylindrical plexiglass climbing tube.

Sam was staring curiously at a pink plastic teacup sitting on the sand in one of the tanks. “Hey, come look at this.”

There was something curled up inside the dainty little cup, and three small white sticks hung over the side.

“What the heck is that?” Tristan asked.

Hugh leaned closer. “I think it's the baby octopus we rescued from the birds.” He rinsed his hand with seawater from a nearby squeeze bottle and stuck it into the tank. Hugh reached in cautiously until his fingertips were nearly touching the plastic teacup. A small knob of a head rose up. Two tiny eye-slits opened. The baby octopus stared at Hugh's fingers and then blanched white. Hugh's fingers flashed pale in response.

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